A Reasonable Request
by kangeiko
Summary: Keiko pays Dr Bashir a visit. Bashir/O'Brien.


"I want you to stop sleeping with my husband."

Julian almost dropped the hypospray, fumbling it against Keiko's arm. Grimacing, he let her go, carefully setting the hypospray to one side as if it contained something a lot more lethal than neonatal supplements. He folded his arms. Unfolded them. Cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me the first time; please do not make me say it again." She rolled her sleeve down and hopped off the Infirmary bed, hands folded over the gentle swell of her belly. "Will you?"

Julian cleared his throat again. "I don't - Keiko, if you think that Miles is having an affair, maybe you should talk to him first." He was surprised at how steady his voice sounded, despite his sweaty palms. He resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his pants, instead busying himself with tapping at Keiko's record on his padd. Truth be told, he wasn't even particularly aiming at obfuscation or stalling her. He just wasn't sure that mixing personal relationships with his professional life was a good idea. _Yes, and it's only __now__ that this occurs to you,_ a nagging little voice said. It sounded a lot like his mother.

A long-fingered, elegant hand landed across the padd's screen, obscuring his view. When he looked back up at her, Keiko's lips had thinned into nonexistence. "Laying down ultimatums is not one of the wifely duties I agreed to perform." She was almost smiling: thin-lipped and pearl-white teeth; more wolfish grimace than congenial overture. "I will not be manouevered into that position. Not by you."

_Say you're sorry_, the little voice insisted. "I rather think that you are laying an ultimatum down right now," he said instead, somewhat horrified at how steady his voice still remained. Like they were discussing the weather.

"Better to my doctor than to my husband," she said sharply. "And where was your Hippocratic oath then, Julian?"

_No child of mine!_ The little voice railed, furious. _No child of mine would have taken advantage of this woman's misfortune!_ He bit his lip and said nothing, willing an emotional reaction - any reaction at all - to come forth.

Keiko's face softened. "Look. You're my friend, and I do love you. But he's _my_ husband, Julian. I had him first."

"I know," he said, almost inaudibly, listening to the internal narration of all of the contrite things he should say. "I don't know - I can't - I'm sorry, Keiko." And, there, _finally_ he was. He wasn't sure what he was sorry about precisely - whether it was sleeping with Miles, or getting caught, or worse, whether he was sorry that they'd ever become friends in the first place. The feeling was there, finally, but he was at a loss as to its cause, floudering about inside his mind, trying to attach it to _something_, some event that would merit the emotion. He was sorry, yes: sorry that emotion had finally enetered into it, perhaps. Having an affair with a married colleague would be a lot simpler if friendship didn't muddy the waters, he thought. Mile's friendship (maybe), but certainly Keiko's; _how are you going to look at yourself in the mirror again?___

What had started off as a one-off occurrence after a night out - and Keiko and Molly on Bajor - had swiftly deteriorated. There: that was the word for it. It wasn't a relationship or an affair so much as both of them locating the big red button and pushing it repeatedly to see what it might do. Well, he knew now: Keiko's hard face, and the hands curled into fists resting on the swell of her stomach. That much adrenaline is not good for an infant, he thought, but was able to bite his tongue before he actually articulated something quite that stupid. "I'll stop," he told her instead, watching the fists slowly relax. "I'll stop - everything. No more inappropriate behaviour, no more - anything. I'll stop."

It was a good target, a good thing to aim for, he thought: safe, honest, respectable.

Keiko smiled a little sadly and nodded.

It took Julian all of an hour to realise she knew he had been lying. Interesting, he thought. Because _he_ hadn't known.

The little voice was silent.

*

fin


End file.
